


Lesser Passions

by Simara



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Typical Everything, Established Relationship, M/M, Misuse of Beholding Avatar Powers (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: "The huge fur coat should have looked ridiculous, really, but on Elias, wrapped tightly around his bony shoulders, it regained an almost redeeming, old-fashioned charm. All he was missing were those glasses, those huge, silly things that actresses had worn in days long past. He looked, in short, like he owned the ship – or had its owner wrapped around his little finger, which was perhaps closer to the truth – when he set foot on the Tundra."Or: The one were Elias joins Peter on the Tundra and mischief ensues.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Lesser Passions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bisexuowls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexuowls/gifts).



The huge fur coat should have looked ridiculous, really, but on Elias, wrapped tightly around his bony shoulder, it regained an almost redeeming, old-fashioned charm. All he was missing were those glasses, those huge, silly things that actresses had worn in days long past. He looked, in short, like he owned the ship – or had its owner wrapped around his little finger, which was perhaps closer to the truth – when he set foot on the Tundra. Peter shifted somewhat nervously, unable to hide his doubts about this journey entirely. It had been Elias’ idea – of course it had been, why would Peter ever propose such a venture – and maybe Peter was getting soft with age or maybe he was just tired of fighting but yes when Elias had suggested to accompany him on one of his journeys, Peter had complied like the dupe he suspected he had by now truly become.

There was a self-satisfied smile playing across Elias’ face as they crossed the deck, and Peter did not miss the hunger with which his husband inspected the crew.

“Behave,” Peter murmured, “This is not a buffet.” The smile turned vicious.

“Oh, but it could be. I might even let you taste the canapés.”

“What?” Peter was quite certain that he was not following the metaphor but Elias didn’t condescend to explain, only pressed Peter’s gloved hand with a soft:

“You’ll see”, before slipping past him and claiming his rightful place in the captain’s cabin, closing the door in Peter’s baffled face.

Peter took a deep breath, inhaling the cold air in an attempt to ground himself. This was fine. He could do this. Two weeks with his husband. Whom he loved. Whom he might not even have to see for the majority of the day if he worked hard and hid some blankets in the boiler room, just in case he needed an escape from Elias’ oh so loving embrace. That man was like an octopus, but not in the fun, tentacle way, no, he merely engulfed you with all his limbs as he slept and made your body overheat with warmth and sensation alike.

He stood there for quite some time before he could see Tadeas move closer out of the corner of his eye. Peter turned towards him, suppressing a sigh. Tadeas, thankfully, had never been a man for pleasantries and knew better than to show any sign of curiosity. Sometimes Peter wondered if the man even cared at all or if he really managed to let it all wash over himself, always standing with one foot planted firmly in the Forsaken yet too stoicly human to actually cross over. Peter envied him, sometimes, but he’d be damned before he’d admit to that.

“Two new midshipmen. Should tie us over easily.”

“Good.”

“Will your guest need anything?” There was the slightest pause before the word ‘guest’ and Peter allowed himself a smile and padded Tadeas on the shoulder.

“My _husband_ will receive no special treatment and if he takes issue with that you’re very welcome to chug him overboard.”

Tadeas nodded and made off, resuming his duties. As Peter watched him go, he allowed himself to imagine Tadeas taking him by his word, reducing his darling Elias to a dripping sewer rat. Savouring the thought, Peter turned back towards his cabin, mentally preparing himself for his loving husband to already be displeased with one thing or another. There used to be a time, at least two divorces ago, when he’d still taken their fights to heart. He had gotten so used to them by now that arguing with Elias felt like breathing. Apparently this petty up and down was as good as it got when you’d already given most of yourself away and had little to nothing left for those you are supposed to adore.

Elias was draped over the bed, eyes open but unfocused in that genuinely scary way that Peter immediately recognized as intent _watching_. He set down next to Elias and began to pull off his heavy boots, keen on slipping under the blanket and getting some loving while he was still able to endure Elias’ presence. Elias eye’s snapped back into focus the moment he felt the bed move. As always, it took a few seconds for his pupils to adjust to his actual surroundings, a brief interval of confusion, of discomfort – and it still worked like a charm on Peter who always found himself soften towards Elias whenever he caught him off-guard.

“Hello there”, Peter murmured, letting his fingers ghost over Elias’ cheek. “Come here often?” Elias barely managed to suppress an ugly, snorted laugh.

“Really, _that_ is the best pick up line you can think of?”

“Well, you are already in my bed and notoriously easy, I didn’t realize you expected me to go all out on pralinées and poetry.” Elias grimaced.

“Don’t get me started on poetry. I’ve had to listen to one of the assistants using _archive’s property_ to record love poetry about my archivist for the last half hour while you’d abandoned me.”

“Abandoned? I was _working_. _”_

“You can’t have been working much, given that you’ve only been gone half an hour.” Peter opened and closed his mouth. Then he asked, honestly perplexed:

“Why did you even come here if you’re so set on fighting?”

“I’m not-“ Annoyance flickered across Elias’ face but for once the emotion seemed to be turned inwards. “Never mind.” Elias sat up fully, letting his long legs swing over the edge of the bed. “I want to try something.” Peter’s eyebrows rose.

“Whenever you say that, it usually ends with me tied up or sore for days.”

“Oh come on, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy that. But no, nothing of that sort this time. You will have to close your eyes, though.”

“Close my eyes?”

“What are you now, a parrot? Just close your eyes. Don’t you trust me?” Like hell he did, but Peter was enough of a masochist to obey anyway. He let his eyes fall close. The bed gave a faint wheeze as Elias began to settle himself onto Peters lab, straddling the thick thighs with practiced ease. Peter would have quipped about his flexibility if the heat weren’t already pooling between his legs. Elias hands came to rest on his shoulders and began to rub gently, working on the knots, massaging until Peter finally relaxed into him. Peter could feel Elias’ breath close to his face, hot against his cold skin. The intimacy of it all made him shudder involuntarily and he was unable to tell if it was from arousal or anxiety. Elias gave a low hum and traced his fingers upwards, following Peter’s pulse all the way to his temples before resting their foreheads together.

The pain was indescribable. It shot through him like a lightning bolt, setting each nerve-ending on fire, but Peter was unable to tear himself away. He heard himself gasp for air, could see himself through Elias’ eyes, convulsing under a power that was not his to share.

“Relax”, Elias whispered against his skin and before Peter could bite back a sarcastic reply, it was all over. A soothing cold laid itself over his senses, dulling the pain into a sweet, throbbing tease at the edge of his vision.

Peter opened his eyes.

_She had always preferred to be alone. The day she'd moved out from her_ _mother’s house, she'd thrown a party for one in her new, empty home, toasting with cinnamon tea. At university, she'd sat alone in the canteen and studied on her own with no one to distract her. She hadn't gone on dates, even though the pretty little redhead in her navigation class had kept smiling at her. It had been better that way. She preferred to be alone, after all. Her practical exam had come and gone and while everyone else had celebrated in some harbour pub, she'd drunken her tea and tugged herself into bed with a book, telling herself that she preferred the quiet, the cold. She loved reading, and she loved tea, and you didn’t need noone with a cuppa and a tale._ _She had felt understood, when she’d first set foot on the Tundra. It was a ship full of ghosts, a ship full of people with nothing to loose, seeking nothing at all but solitude. A blissful break from heartache and exaggerated expectations. It had only taken a few days before she could feel the fog fill her lungs, numbing her with each shaky breath, robbing her off a spark she didn’t even knew she had. These days, she drank coffee and didn’t find the time to read. It didn’t matter either way and –_

And Peter opened his eyes.

_He hated this ship. Hated the crew. Sometimes he thought about pushing someone into the angry, hungry ocean just to see if they were human enough to scream for help or at least retaliation. His sister had warned him. It’s a lonely life, she had said. They’ll chew you up and leave nothing but an empty shell. Well, he felt a certain pride in knowing that at least the last part wasn’t true. The sea hadn’t taken a single thing. All it had done was bring out the worst in him, a bitter, perfectionist streak that made him envy his colleagues, begrudge their promotions. He was certain that he was better than them, knew that he ought not be subjected to their idle chatter. He would break his own back if it would ensure him his well-deserved place above them. Alone. At peace. No longer weary of their glances, their whispers. Rumours. Their laughter haunted him. He couldn’t tell for sure if he had ever actually seen them laugh, or whisper, or catch his eye, but that was the thing, you see, their hideous plan to drive him mad, make him doubt, when it was so crystal clear that in this cruel world he could trust no one but himself. He should push them. Push them all. Maybe he’d finally be alone on this dreadful freighter, alone and –_

And Peter opened his eyes.

_She had a boyfriend in Brighton and a fiancée in Liverpool. They fought and they made up and they kissed and made out and it always left her cold, unmoved. She had a lover in Lime and a special girl in Gloucester. If you asked her she would tell you that she was once quite certain that each of them knew how to stir something in her, an emotion she hunted, a glimpse at feeling alive. It had died, every single time, leaving her cold and empty and alone, no matter how many bodies she ended up pilling on top of herself. Alone. The one thing she never wanted to be, the thing she feared above all else, the true reason why she collected connections like others did stamps. She wanted to breathe and laugh and live like everyone else seemed to do with so much ease. But something held her back and pushed the air from her lungs whenever she played at being human. There must be something, anything, that could warm her, shake her, move her. She was quite certain that she only had to keep searching, even if it meant isolating everyone around her and –_

And Peter moaned softly, hips snapping forward as Elias showed him their stories, drowning in an orgasm he had barely felt building. It left him ragged and shaking, clutching Elias' waist with calloused hands. Elias leaned forward, lips brushing against the lobe of Peter’s ear.

“You owe me a lay”, he whispered, words tinged by smugness and self-righteous joy. Peter didn’t have the energy to argue. All he could do was slump forwards, burry his face in Elias’ scrawny neck and exhale slowly. And for just a split second he caught himself happy, a treacherous thought, and he buried it deep in a heart of ever-thawing ice.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: "Elias joins Peter for a trip on the Tundra and decides that it's a great opportunity to feed the Eye some fear from the poor souls on board. How does he do so?"
> 
> The prompt got a little away from me but I think it still turned out rather nicely.
> 
> Anyway, this was written for the lonely eyes lonely hearts discord server's secret santa, specifically for the lovely Tasota, provider of excellent art.


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